Time
by HydeLuver
Summary: A reflection of past and present.


**Author's Note: **Today marks my fifth year on ff and I couldn't think of a better way to have my own little celebration than to write a short 70s story. Hope you enjoy it.

Everyone has their own perception of what New York is. To some, it's the place where dreams are born. These people can go to Times Square and imagine themselves on the big billboards, being admired by millions. To others, New York is the place where dreams die. Unlike their more optimistic counterparts, these are people who have been there long enough to know the truth. There are no shining lights for them, no adoring fans or thirty foot billboards.

As I stand here, watching the sun set behind tall, gray buildings, I can't help but wonder when I became one of the pessimists. I try to recall the exact moment but come up with nothing. Perhaps that's because after eight years, things become a blur, a chain of intertwined experiences that no longer make sense by themselves. Of course, there's no one else to blame but myself. I knew after the first year that things were not going to go as I planned.

Most of that has to do with the fact that I wasn't supposed to stay here long. My journey to New York initially had an expiration date of just three months in which I would clear my head, be able to forget about the painful memories and go back home to him.

Him.

I'm still able to see his face if I close my eyes long enough. The bushy hair, the crooked smirk that show his playfulness and the blue eyes that cut through your soul. I loved everything about him, at least I though I did when I first arrived here. I remember our daily phone conversations which would all end in a promise of return and a pledge of my love for him. I would melt when he was able to say those three little words back because I knew how hard it was for him to express the sentiment. Even in the days he didn't say it, I knew he felt it just by the tone of his voice.

It didn't take long for the loving calls to turn into arguments as he pleaded for me to return.

"_I miss you"_

"_How much longer do you need?"_

"_Please..."_

The romantic in me was itching to pack it all up and go back. Go back to his strong, warm arms where I felt safest. Go back to fulfill dreams of fall weddings and lazy afternoons spent in bed, talking about the possibilities of the future. Everything I ever wanted was just a bus ride away and it would be so easy to have it, but then, going back wasn't an option.

I would be lying if I said I didn't still think about all the pain he caused me after he got back from Las Vegas, with a wife he kept around. Even after his sham of a marriage ended, his cruelty towards me didn't stop. After a year, when we somehow managed to work past our issues and find our way back to each other, things seemed perfect. He would be the doting boyfriend I had always wanted and I stopped pressuring him. To everyone else we seemed to have it all together, but I couldn't forget the past or shake the feeling that I needed to take one last trip before committing to a life with him.

The trip to New York was a substitute for Chicago. In three months, I would be able to get acquainted with myself and do what I needed to do before taking another step forward with him. Reluctantly, he agreed to let me go.

Once I touched down on the paved, concrete sidewalks of the Big Apple, I knew my life was changed. Going back to Wisconsin, even for him, would prove to be more difficult than I thought. The bright lights, the thousands of people bustling about, the excitement of not knowing where to go or who I would meet that day...it was just what a girl like me needed.

As the third month was coming to an end, I looked around the small apartment I had then and felt the room closing in on me. It wasn't the tightness of the space that bothered me, but the thought of having to leave it. I remember breaking down in tears as I realized my time in New York was almost up. Not even the thought of seeing him again was enough to comfort me. I laugh now, at how foolish the scene would have seen to someone else. A girl crying because she had to go back to a perfect boyfriend and great friends. How silly.

It still seems silly now, as I realize how different my life would be if I had gone back. I like to think my life is better now than it would have been if I had gone back, but I know that's probably not true. I guess I like that thought because it makes me feel better about my own unfulfilled life. I'm sure my life with him would have been magical.

Still, as I stand by my window, looking out into the starless sky, I feel a peace I never had then. Though I am alone, in a small apartment thousands of miles from my past, I have to believe I will be alright.

**Author's Note 2: **I became inspired to write this after reading Slouching Towards Bethlehem, specifically the following quote:

"_...I told him, just six months...I stayed eight years."-Joan Didion_


End file.
